


Amnesia

by ohfortheloveofsinbad



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: "sparring", Amnesia, Attempted Murder, Attempted Sex, Drakon - Freeform, Hinahoho - Freeform, Ja'far - Freeform, M/M, Masrur - Freeform, Pisti - Freeform, Probably more humor than a fic of this type needs but whatever, Sharrkan - Freeform, Sinbad - Freeform, Sinja, Spartos - Freeform, Violence, Yamuraiha - Freeform, just read it I promise it doesn't bite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfortheloveofsinbad/pseuds/ohfortheloveofsinbad
Summary: It started with a simple sparring match, but a punch gone wrong lands Ja'far straight into an infirmary with no memory of anything save for his days as an assassin. Now, he's set to kill Sinbad once again, but this time, he's larger, faster, and has new moves he doesn't remember creating. Sinbad's going to have to start watching his back, though, luckily for him, he realizes something's up. Will mere intuition save him from Ja'far's blades once again?





	1. The Sparring Match

**Author's Note:**

> This story was made in order to get me moving on "Vengeance." This is the story I'd like to focus on, but I've made a deal with myself that I'm not allowed to post a new chapter on this until I have one up for "Vengeance" first. Wish me luck, and I hope you stay tuned with both of these stories!

The door to Ja’far’s office suddenly opened. It slammed against the wall, deepening a dent there which had been formed from similar incidents that seemed to happen over and over from one main person…

“Ja’far!” Sinbad said with a big grin.

Ja’far cast his king a look and placed his pen down, as he had been working, as usual. “How many times have I told you to knock before you come in?” he asked in annoyance.

Sinbad pouted at him. “Why do you always insist upon that?” he asked, then a sly grin appeared on his face. “Are you doing something _dirty_ in here?”

Color rose in Ja’far’s cheeks. “You know I would do no such thing!” he declared adamantly.

Sinbad raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why should I knock?” he asked.

“Because if you startle me, my pen could slip and I’ll ruin a document!” Ja’far huffed. He turned his head away in order to hide his face.

Sinbad stuck out his tongue. “I’d love to tease you more, but I just remembered we have an urgent matter on our hands,” he said.

“Do we?” Ja’far asked. Sinbad’s ideas of “urgent” weren’t normally that. Usually, Sinbad would burst into his office declaring an “urgent” matter, and then drag him off to a brothel in an attempt to make the advisor relax.

It never worked, of course. The second Ja’far saw the familiar sign of “Brothel” at the top of a building his king dragged him to, he’d break free and zip off back to the comfort of his office.

“Of course!” Sinbad said. “You need to get away from that desk of yours.”

Ja’far groaned. “I knew it… Sin, I _refuse_ to go to a brothel. You can’t make me drop important documents just to-“

“It’s not that!” Sinbad interjected. “I got all of the other generals in on this one. We’re holding a sparring match out in one of the clearings near town. The winner gets a special prize!”

Ja’far gave him a blank look. “You know I don’t put any real value on material objects, right?” he reminded.

“If you win, I’ll do all of my work without any complaints for a whole month,” Sinbad promised.

The advisor immediately stood up from his chair with such a force that it was knocked to the ground. “Let’s do it.”

Sinbad victoriously pumped his fist in the air. “I knew that would work!” he laughed. “I’ll take you to the place!”

Ja’far picked up his chair and scooted it back under his desk so that everything looked neat. He then walked around to Sinbad’s side with a pleased smile on his face.

Sinbad led Ja’far out of the tower with a prideful walk, droning on and on about how good the sparring matches would be for the adviser’s health.

“You really do need to stretch your muscles more. Don’t think I can’t hear those pops your joints make when you move. You spend too much time at that desk. This’ll be good for you!”

Ja’far rolled his eyes. “Who am I up against first?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Everyone already picked their partners, so this first match, you’re going against Spartos,” Sinbad said.

“You picked without me?” Ja’far asked with a small smile.

_“I_ wanted to wait, but they all called out their partners before I could stop them,” Sinbad chuckled.

“Understandable. Was it Sharrkan who started it all?”

“Indeed it was,” Sinbad said.

“I knew it. Well, there’s no use getting frustrated. Spartos will surely be a formidable partner. Now, how is this sparring match going to work, hm?” Ja’far inquired.

“We go in groups of two. Everyone picks a partner and battles them. The winner goes on to the next round, and new partners are picked. It goes on like that until there’s one person left standing, and that’s the winner,” Sinbad explained.

“No one is going to get seriously hurt in this little game, right?” Ja’far asked nervously.

“No need to worry, my dear! Precautions have been taken. You’ll see them all when we get to the clearing,” Sinbad said, and pointed ahead of them. All of the generals were waiting patiently in a circle, chatting and bickering as the two approached. “We’re already close, see?”

Ja’far hummed. “Are you going to be taking part in these matches, Sin?” he asked.

“Nope!” Sinbad said. “If I participated, it wouldn’t be fair. The teams would be uneven.”

Ja’far chuckled. “Are you sure you aren’t refraining because you fear you’ve lost your touch, old man?”

Sinbad feigned a hurt look. “I’m hardly even thirty!” he cried. “I’m still young!”

“You can tell yourself that all you like,” Ja’far laughed, and ran ahead while Sinbad slowed as he tried to reassure himself that he wasn’t old.

“Ja’far!” Pisti cried happily when she saw the older man approaching. She ran forward to meet him and clung onto his waist as he walked. “You actually came!”

Ja’far snorted. “Of course I did. Sinbad wouldn’t have stopped pestering me otherwise,” he said.

Pisti giggled. “Well, even if you’re only here because you have to be, I wanna go against you next!” she declared. “You never want to play with me, so now is my only chance.”

Ja’far smiled and patted her head as he came to a stop near everyone else. “If you want to fight me so badly, be sure to try your hardest to make it to the second round,” he encouraged.

“Of course!”

“Ja’far, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Spartos said with a polite bow of his head when he found just the right break in the conversation. “It seems we’ll be up against each other in our first match.”

Ja’far flashed a smile at him, and Pisti detached herself to run around the area. “It seems so,” he agreed. “Be sure to give it your all. I won’t be going easy on you.”

“Are you that interested in the mystery prize?” Spartos chuckled.

Ja’far winked. “I get something a little different from the rest of you,” he said.

“Oh?” Spartos asked, suddenly intrigued. “And what is that?”

“Sinbad promised to do all of his work without complaint for a month!” Ja’far said excitedly. “I don’t plan on losing this match easily.”

Spartos laughed. “Good luck,” he said. “I hope you win.”

“By that, I sure hope you don’t mean you’ll go easy on me,” Ja’far said.

“I would never dream of it,” Spartos claimed.

“Good luck to you as well, then,” Ja’far chuckled.

“Okay!” Sinbad shouted. It seemed as though he’d finally recovered. It took him long enough. It was about time they got to the actual fighting. “Everybody ready?”

Everyone cheered to show they were indeed prepared.

“Alright then! I’ll designate specific areas for you all to fight in. No one starts until I give the word. I still need to hand out your new weapons,” Sinbad said. He gestured to the middle of the clearing where a pile of weapons lay. “Drakon and Hinahoho, you two fight in the south corner. Masrur and Sharrkan, to the far left. Spartos and Ja’far, the far right. Pisti and Yamuraiha, that leaves you with the north end. Go!”

The generals all scattered to their designated places and waited patiently for Sinbad to come around to them.

Sinbad went around in the order he called everyone’s names, meaning Ja’far and Spartos were tended to third.

The king gave Spartos a spear much like his other one; the difference was that, instead of a blade at the tip, there was a rounded, red pouch that oozed some sort of liquid. “This will show us all where you managed to hit,” was Sinbad’s reasoning.

Next was Ja’far.

“Ja’far, I’m going to need to confiscate all of your blades. You can keep your wires,” Sinbad said.

The advisor glared up at him. “Can’t I just keep them and not use them?” he asked.

Sinbad shook his head. “Nope! It’s the rules. Real weapons aren’t allowed on any player. Safety reasons.”

Ja’far sighed and unclipped the two blades near his wrists, then gave them to Sinbad.

The king gave him a stern look. “I said all of them,” he said.

Ja’far grumbled under his breath moodily and reached up his sleeves, unhooking six more blades from the ropes and a holster of daggers on each arm. He tossed them to the ground, then slipped off his official robes, exposing many little vials of potions and pills that were sewn into the lining of the fabric, including on the inside of his keffiyeh. This left him in his white shirt and harem pants. He then removed two more holsters of daggers from around each leg, then another holster around his waist, and finally plucked off a razor blade which had been taped to his chest.

Sinbad narrowed his eyes. “Ja’far.”

The adviser groaned and kicked off his shoes. The moment he did so, a hidden blade popped out of the bottom sole of each, just under where the toes would go.

“Is that all of them?” Sinbad asked.

“Yes,” Ja’far huffed.

“Do I need to strip search?” Sinbad asked.

Ja’far shook his head.

Sinbad crossed his arms and gave Ja’far a look.

Angrily, the advisor removed his final weapon: A small razor that had been carefully glued just behind his ear in case of emergencies. He sadly placed it into Sinbad’s hand.

The king grinned and gathered up all the weapons, then put them in a cloth bag. “Thank you~” he said pleasantly. “Now, here are your new weapons.”

Ja’far was given eight thick metal hooks and four red markers, which he reluctantly accepted. “I know how you work with your blades, creating traps by shoving them in the ground and connecting wires to them… This shouldn’t be much different,” Sinbad promised.

“I don’t understand why we have to work with fake weapons in the first place,” Ja’far huffed.

“A few of the generals have been reckless with their weapons lately, namely Sharrkan and Yamuraiha, and I can’t let them use their weapons. Of course, it isn’t fair to them if they’re the only ones with restraints, and I couldn’t cut them out of the match… So that means everyone gets a handicap,” Sinbad said with a sheepish smile.

“Just how reckless were they?” Ja’far asked. Maybe he could convince his king to drop the ridiculous handicap rule.

“I’m guessing you didn’t see, but Sharrkan had several broken ribs, a black eye, and severe burns on his body, and Yamuraiha had several deep cuts and a stab wound through her forearm,” Sinbad said.

Ja’far grimaced. Alright, he’d admit, those injuries gave a perfectly good reason for the fake weapons. “Okay, I won’t argue until they’re out of the competition, then,” he said.

“Thank you,” Sinbad said, then moved on to Pisti and Yamuraiha.

The king ended up spending no more than a minute with the girls before he ran to the middle of the clearing and shouted, “Let the match begin!”

Spartos wasted no time in attacking while Ja’far was fumbling with his new “weapons,” lunging forward with his sights set on hitting the man straight in the chest.

Unfortunately for the man of Sasan, Ja’far was simply too quick.

The advisor managed to sidestep the attack with ease and counter with his own. He threw a messily-tied marker directly between Spartos’ eyes, but the balance of his makeshift weapon was thrown off by the messy knotting, and the marker just happened to veer down and off to the side, where it hit the man’s cheek instead of his forehead.

Spartos didn’t waste any time making a counter-attack. He snatched the end of the red marker and tied the wire it was attached to around his spear before yanking the weapon back hard, which caused Ja’far to fumble.

Thankfully, everything had gone according to plan. The rest of the wire unfurled from around Ja’far’s arm and slinked around Spartos at once. The poor man had no idea what had happened once the wires suddenly tightened around his body, rendering him immobile.

Ja’far stood up and pulled out his second marker. He approached his opponent, then leaned down next to him. Slowly, the former assassin drew a long, thick line across Spartos’ throat.

“And we have a winner! Ja’far moves to the next round!” Sinbad shouted.

Huh. It seemed Sinbad was better at paying attention to all of the battles than Ja’far thought he would be… or was his king only watching him?

His selfish thought quickly dissipated when Sinbad shouted, “Sharrkan, you’re _dead!_ Stop trying to fight Masrur!”

“No way!” came Sharrkan’s obnoxious whining. “I’m not dead yet!”

“I watched him give you a fatal hold no less than three times! You lose! Stop hitting him!” Sinbad shouted.

Sharrkan whined loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Ja’far brought the wires back around his arm quickly, freeing Spartos from his trap. He offered the downed man a hand up, which he gratefully took.

“It seems I’m no match for you even when I’m trying my hardest,” Spartos said.

“I’ve simply had more years of experience,” Ja’far chuckled. “Your fatal mistake was forgetting that I use magoi manipulation, though.”

Spartos sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I will most certainly pay more attention next time.”

“Nice job, Yamuraiha!” Sinbad shouted from his post, interrupting the two as his attention switched to the girls on the north side of the clearing. “You win, now let Pisti out of the bubble!”

A popping noise was soon heard, followed by the sound of Pisti gasping for breath on the ground. “I thought I was gonna die!” she wailed.

“OOF!”

Everyone turned their heads to where the sudden cry of pain had come from.

Down at the south side of the field, Hinahoho lay on the ground, covered in red ink and completely winded.

“Looks like we have all our winners!” Sinbad shouted. “Everyone come here so we can decide on the next round!”

An ornery Sharrkan had to be hauled to the center of the field over Masrur’s shoulder. Everyone else made it quickly and without any problems, other than Hinahoho, who was thoroughly winded and took his time.

Once everyone was circled around Sinbad, the king grinned and placed his hands on his hips. “Great work everybody!” he praised. “Winners of round one, come stand at my right side. Everyone else can take a break here at my left.”

Sharrkan squirmed out of Masrur’s hold at last and fell to the ground in a heap.

Hinahoho sighed and grabbed the man by his arm, then dragged him over to where he was sitting. He kept a firm hold on the Heliohaptian. He feared the man’s ego might interfere with the rest of the matches.

“Alright, you guys! Anyone have any suggestions for who they want to fight?” Sinbad asked.

“I would like to try my hand against Masrur, if possible,” Drakon said.

“Alright, then, Masrur against Drakon, and Ja’far against Yamuraiha,” Sinbad listed. “Sounds good. I’ll keep you two on the left and right sides of the fields respectively.”

“Sin…” Masrur spoke up.

“Yes, Masrur?”

The Fanalis lifted his hands, showing two bright red foam blocks covering his fists, then one of his legs, showing his shins had been covered by the same foam covering. “Do I still have to wear these?” he asked.

Sinbad hummed. “Well… I suppose Drakon has scales tough enough to take those hits… but you should really be asking him if he minds.”

“I don’t,” Drakon said quickly. “I chose Masrur because I wanted to experience his power firsthand. I would actually appreciate it if he removed the blocks.”

Without another word, Masrur extended on hand toward Sinbad, who sighed and removed the foam. The Fanalis handled the rest on his own.

“Alright, are we done with all that?” Sinbad asked. He took the silence that followed as an affirmative and went on. “Masrur and Drakon, you have the left side of the field. Ja’far and Yamuraiha, you have the right. You all- er, the _majority_ of you still have the weapons with you, so there’s no need for me to go around this time. Just go to your spots and wait for my signal to start.”

Everyone nodded and said, “Yes sir!” and marched off to their positions at once.

Once standing, Yamuraiha set a nervous smile Ja’far’s way. He returned the gesture, but with confidence.

“Go!” Sinbad shouted.

At once, Yamuraiha began shooting bubbles of water his way, hoping to catch him in one. Sinbad had not given her a new weapon due to the fact that her staff wasn’t meant for melee combat, so he set limitations on her magic instead. She was only allowed to use low to medium level water magic, which meant she wasn’t allowed to boil away all the water in her opponent’s body, and she couldn’t drown her victim using the water from the ocean.

Her fighting techniques were essentially limited to bubbles in which her opponent would be trapped if they came into contact.

Sinbad really put a damper on the fun. Ja’far wanted to tell her she could use whatever tricks she wanted, but he figured it would get her disqualified, especially since she was one of the reasons the restrictions were in place.

Ja’far sighed and sped through the maze of bubbles with ease. He made it straight to her with no problem at all.

Yamuraiha squeaked when he came into such close contact with her in what seemed to be a mere moment. She lifted her staff to capture him in a bubble, but it was already too late. Ja’far had taken his marker and drawn a line across her throat, and followed up with lines on the insides of her arms.

“Ja’far wins against Yamuraiha! Good job you guys!” Sinbad shouted.

Ja’far crinkled his nose and dropped his marker, allowing it to dangle at his side from his wire. “These rules made the fight less thrilling than it could have been,” he said to her. He offered his hand. “Let’s have a proper battle sometime this week, alright?”

Yamuraiha nodded and shook his hand with a pout on her face. “This was good for a few things, at least…” she mumbled. “It made me realize I need to work on more techniques for lower-level magic. If I ever get into a fight where I can’t use as much magic power as I normally can, I’ll definitely be in trouble.”

Ja’far smiled. “I think that’s a great choice, Yam. I’d be happy to help in any way. Just call me down if you need a test subject,” he chuckled.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t odd for Ja’far to say that. He actually volunteered to be a test subject for various medicines, potions, and spells she wanted to test in exchange for her vow to stop torturing Sharrkan by forcing him to be her guinea pig, as well as her weekly delivery of a special set of herbs he’d never been able to break himself from using.

Yamuraiha smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Ja’far,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll take you up on that offer eventually.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ja’far said.

“And Drakon is down! Our winner is Masrur!” Sinbad cried.

Ja’far’s eyes widened and he quickly turned to look at the scene at the other side of the field.

Drakon was face down on the ground, covered in bumps and bruises, his plastic sword coated in dye rested in pieces all about the ground.

Masrur himself only had a few red lines on his body, such as one on the outside of his thigh, and a few bright marks along his sides. They certainly didn’t count as fatal hits… but if he had been hit with a real sword, the outcome would have most certainly been different.

Would it have?

Ja’far supposed there would be no way of truly telling. There were far too many variables and possibilities in place to get a proper answer.

“Alright everyone, come back here!” Sinbad called.

Drakon groaned as he shakily pushed himself up. A helpful hand from Masrur got them both back to Sinbad at the same time as Ja’far and Yamuraiha.

“Well, we have our finalists,” Sinbad said with a grin. “Do either of you need a rest before the final battle?”

What is this, some sort of war reenactment? Sinbad, you need to stop trying to act cool. It doesn’t work when you actively try.

Masrur shook his head.

“I think I’m alright to continue on,” Ja’far said.

“Alright, then let’s get those foam things back on Marur and-“

“Actually,” Ja’far interrupted. “I would like to try this without any protective gear.”

Sinbad’s mouth hooked. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“You let Drakon do it,” Ja’far said. “In fact, considering it’s just me and Masrur, I think the restrictions should be removed entirely.”

“I trust you not to stab Masrur, but I know how you get during any type of fight and I don’t think it would be a great idea to give you back your weapons,” Sinbad said. “And with Masrur… Well, you don’t exactly have thick scale armor like Drakon does.”

“I remember a time when I took his kicks and punches without any problem,” Ja’far pointed out.

Sinbad sighed. “Fine,” he said.

Ja’far grinned. He felt as though this was getting to be more of a fair fight.

“You don’t get your knives back, though,” he said.

Ja’far’s smile disappeared. “Why not?!”

“I literally just told you!”

Ja’far groaned. “Fine, fine… I get it. I’ll use the markers…”

“Thank you,” Sinbad said. “Now, you two get the whole clearing to yourselves. Start where you please.”

Ja’far nodded and looked to Masrur. “Perhaps the far south area?” he suggested. “I don’t want to be too close to our spectators in case this gets destructive.”

Masrur nodded and made his way down.

Ja’far looked at Sinbad. “Once this fight ends safely, would you mind taking all the restrictions off of those who request it should there be any further matches?”

“ _If_ it ends safely, I’ll consider it,” Sinbad huffed.

Ja’far rolled his eyes and made his way over to Masrur.

“Ready?” Sinbad called out to them when it seemed they were in position. “Go!”

At once, Ja’far disappeared from Masur’s line of sight. He ended up behind the Fanalis, who was only just fast enough to turn and block Ja’far’s markers with his forearms.

The advisor “tch”ed in frustration and dove down for Masrur’s legs, which he quickly closed so the former assassin couldn’t get through to slash at his defenseless inner thighs.

Of course the redhead knew all of the man’s tricks. They’d trained together many times before. This only meant Ja’far would have to try harder and perhaps make up a new move on the spot.

Or…

Maybe he could use one of the older moves Masrur knew nothing about.

Ja’far dug into his pockets and pulled out the hooks Sinbad had given him. He dodged several of Masrur’s kicks and punches as he darted around, pushing them all into the ground around the man. Once that was done, he used his incredible speed to connect his wires to them all over and over, creating a maze of razor sharp wires all around his opponent, trapping him in and limiting movement, yet also limiting the area in which Ja’far could attack. The only open space was from above.

With that, Ja’far dove out of Masrur’s line of vision yet again in order to confuse him, then jumped up, planning on making his final blow a swipe to the nape of the man’s neck.

It was a thrilling feeling to make the attack, almost as though he were about to make a true kill. The adrenaline rush was nearly addicting. He couldn’t help himself. He could feel true bloodlust welling up within him as he grew nearer and nearer to Masrur’s neck. He knew this was what Sinbad meant when he said he knew how he got during any kind of fight. This was why he wasn’t allowed to have real weapons.

That bloodlust might very well have been his downfall, for, in less time it could take him to blink, Masrur had turned around, his eyes wide with what might very well be the fear for his life. His fist shot up at once, not to block, but to attack.

Ja’far was hit directly in the ribs, full-force, by a Fanalis. The last thing he heard before he was sent flying far from the clearing in which he and Masrur were sparring was Sinbad screaming his name.

Next thing he knew, he had hit one of the towers hard enough to break through the bricks and cement and landed in someone’s room… Sinbad’s room, to be exact, which was the last thing he saw before everything went black.


	2. Is he alright?

Masrur stared in shock in the direction of the tower. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He had hit Ja’far in the stomach at full power. The man could be dead or dying from internal damage, and it was all his fault!

“Yamuraiha!” Sinbad shouted, which jolted the Fanalis out of his state of shock.

“I’m on it!” cried the magician. She set her staff sideways and seated herself on it before flying off in the direction of the injured advisor.

Sinbad immediately placed his hand on his sword and equipped Baal, then flew off, passing Yamuraiha in his quest to arrive at Ja’far’s side.

“Everyone, back to the tower!” Drakon ordered without thinking.

Of course everyone was worried and in shock, but if they all went to crowd around Ja’far, Yamuraiha might have a bit of trouble trying to heal him.

No one seemed to take this into account, however, as they all sped off toward the castle at their own top speed.

Soon, the clearing was completely empty and as it was before the generals arrived, save for a few spots of red dye from leaking pouches and some upturned earth left from Masrur after he had run off as fast as he could.

 

“Don’t touch him!” Yamuraiha warned Sinbad as she neared the castle. “You could hurt him more!”

Sinbad had dropped his equip once he had reached his room and scratched at his head violently in frustration. “What can I do?!” he shouted at her.

Yamuraiha hopped off her staff as she reached the king’s room and flipped it to a vertical position in her hand. “You can keep your distance while I check him over and bring things to help him should I need them,” she told him calmly. “Go wait on your bed or something.”

She knelt down at Ja’far’s side and cast a veil of water over him, presumably to assess his injuries.

Sinbad bit his lip and clenched his fists angrily. He didn’t want to be far from his advisor in his time of need, but he knew that if he stayed too close, Yamuraiha would snap at him.

Reluctantly, the king stepped away. He grabbed a chair from nearby and pulled it up to a distance that was close to his generals, but not so close that it would be distracting to Yamuraiha.

“Alright…” the magician mumbled. “He’s alive, and he’ll live. You can thank the fact that he’s half-assimilated for that… but he’s definitely hurt to the point where he’ll have to endure bedrest for a week at the very least.”

Sinbad sighed in relief. “That’s alright,” he said. “I’m just glad he’s okay… I’ll get the other generals and more assistants to help with his work while he’s healing.”

Yamuraiha nodded. “Good idea.”

“May I ask what all is wrong with him?” Sinbad inquired.

“You may, but you might not like it,” Yamuraiha stated.

“I need to know,” Sinbad claimed.

Yamuraiha sighed. “All of his ribs are broken, understandably. The bones sliced a few of his organs, including one of his lungs, but I’ve already stopped the bleeding and the veil I have over him is working on restoring the damaged tissue,” she explained. “Of course, that’s just from Masrur’s attack. The wall was a little more damaging, surprisingly. The impact moved his left shoulder severely out of place, so I’ll need you to help me set it once I can move him, and he seems to have some head trauma, which I can’t do much for in fear of making it worse.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Sinbad asked. “How come you’re able to fix everything but his head?”

“I think he’ll be alright. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of brain damage. It just looks like a major concussion,” Yamuraiha said. “The brain is something very complex and there aren’t many books on it that I can study. I could go ahead and try to fix the damage with what little I know, but there’s a high chance that I could make it worse. I might even cause permanent damage.”

“Alright… I get it now. If it’s just a concussion, it should heal on its own just fine,” Sinbad said with a sigh. “Thank you for your hard work.”

Yamuraiha waved her hand in dismissal. “Could you go to my lab and get me some bandages? I should have him stabilized by the time you get back. We can set his shoulder, get him wrapped up, and then move him to his room in no time.”

“You’re not going to keep him in your lab?” Sinbad asked.

“His room has more space, and I assume he’d rather wake up in his own bed than on that tiny cot I have.”

Sinbad shrugged. “I suppose you have a point,” he said. He stood up and made his way to the door. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Yamuraiha nodded at him. “Don’t take too long,” she advised. “I want to get his shoulder set as quickly as possible.”

Sinbad gave her a thumbs-up and walked out without another word.

He quickly made his way down several flights of stairs until he reached Yamuraiha’s floor. He walked straight into the magician’s lab and grabbed several rolls of bandages from off the table where she kept her medical items. He cast a nervous glance to one of the cages in the back of the room that held a mutated animal, which had made an ungodly noise when he walked in.

He wasn’t a fan of Yamuraiha’s experiments, but every time he asked her to stop, she would get angry and yell at him. She always told him that her experiments were for “the sake of science” and “furthering the development of mankind” and that he “had no right to try and stop that,” so he just let her do as she pleased. Even though he was severely uncomfortable with what she was doing.

If she ever hurt anyone with her experiments, it would be a different story, but she was relatively safe and cautious, so perhaps she was right in telling him that he shouldn’t butt in and stop her.

With a shudder, Sinbad quickly turned his gaze away from the animal. He left the room and hurried back up to his own.

“I have the bandages,” Sinbad said as he walked through the doorway.

“Good. Put them in your pocket for now. We’ll wrap him up once we get him back into his room. Let’s get his shoulder back into place,” Yamuraiha said.

Sinbad stuffed the bandages into a fold in his robes and walked over to them. “How do you want me to do this?” he asked.

“Help me sit him up. I’ll hold him, then you’ll tuck your arm under his shoulder, then pull it up and back as fast and as firmly as you can until you hear a pop,” Yamuriaha explained.

Sinbad nodded and helped her bring Ja’far up into a sitting position. “This isn’t hurting him at all, is it?” the king asked.

“That would matter more if he were conscious,” Yamuraiha replied, “but it’s not making him any worse off.”

Sinbad grimaced as he slid his arm under Ja’far’s armpit. Yamuraiha held the unconscious man steady as Sinbad hooked his arm upward, then pulled.

There were a few pops, and Sinbad felt sick to his stomach as he felt his advisor’s shoulder move back into its socket.

“He’s good! Let him go,” Yamuraiha said quickly, and the king released his hold at once.

Yamuraiha smiled at Sinbad. “Good job,” she praised. “Now we need to move him without jostling him around too much.”

“How are we going to do that? I can lift him, but it’ll be hard to keep him from moving around,” Sinbad said.

Almost as if the gods had sent him, Masrur burst into the room right at that moment. “Is he alright?” he asked in his low, monotone voice.

Sinbad sighed in relief. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of calling Masrur in the first place. It was a good thing he chose that moment to show up. “Yeah, he’s alright,” he promised. “Can you help us move him to his room?”

Masrur nodded and walked over to them. He lifted Ja’far with ease. He held him almost flat against his arms.

“Try to be careful,” Yamuraiha warned. “Don’t jostle him.”

Masrur nodded. He walked out of the room stiffly. He carried Ja’far as though he were some precious, fragile artifact that might break should he even breathe the wrong way.

“Poor guy…” Yamuraiha said as she stood up. “This incident is probably eating him up. I can’t begin to imagine just how guilty he feels.”

“I’m sure he’ll be alright…” Sinbad said. “Ja’far went in fully aware of the consequences fighting him might bring.”

Yamuraiha shook her head. “There was no way he could have expected _this.”_

“What happened is over and done with,” Sinbad said. “And when Ja’far wakes up, he’ll know to be more cautious next time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Yamuraiha said. “I think you need to talk to Masrur about this, though. He needs to be reassured that everything’s alright.”

“I’m planning on it,” Sinbad said as he made his way out of the room.

Yamuraiha followed close behind.

By the time they reached Ja’far’s room, Masrur had already laid the former assassin on the bed perfectly. He was adjusting the pillows and blankets around him to make sure his friend would be comfortable as he slept.

“Good job, Masrur,” Sinbad said with a comforting smile.

The redhead gave him a stare. “Can I do anything?” he asked.

The king’s heart went out to the Fanalis. The poor guy really was worried…

“I’m going to put some bandages on him and try to speed up the healing process,” Yamuraiha said. She wanted to make Masrur feel better any way she could, so she suggested he could keep watch over Ja’far when she wasn’t around.

Masrur of course agreed. He wanted to make up for the incident in any way he could.

As Sinbad listened to their conversation, he noticed something on the Fanalis’ neck.

Sinbad furrowed his brow. “Masrur, what’s that?” he asked.

Masrur gave him a quizzical look.

“There, on your throat,” Sinbad said.

The Fanalis moved a giant hand up and felt around the skin of his neck, but couldn’t find anything out of place.

Sinbad moved closer and laughed softly as he realized just what it was that was there. He ran a tan thumb along the streak of red that marked him. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”

As it turned out, the match between Ja’far and Masrur had been a tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for supporting this story! I hope you all enjoy it as it continues on. If you do happen to like the story, please leave a kudos and a comment! Seeing and reading about your support keeps me motivated!


	3. Time to Wake up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ja'far finally wakes up from his small coma with no memories outside of his time as an assassin. His mission? Kill Sinbad. His only problem? He can't move.

_What… happened?_

He woke to a dull pain resonating throughout his entire body. His ears were met with a shrill ring that only seemed to grow in intensity as he grew wider awake.

Ja’far’s eyes squinted open slightly, which brought harsh sunlight into his groggy pupils. This made him groan in agony and attempt to turn onto his side in an effort to hide in comforting darkness, but alas, the movement sparked a flash of pain to move through his ribs, which caused him to groan even louder.

“Fuck!” he hissed as he forced himself to lie still. He turned his head to the side in order to shield himself from the blinding light.

It was only then he noticed that he wasn’t where he should have been.

Instead of a bumpy, hard cot like that of which he was used to laying on, he found himself on a soft mattress that supported him where he needed, and instead of an old, tattered blanket which did little to keep out the cold, he was covered by silken sheets.

 _Where am I?_ He wondered as he mustered up the strength to lift his head and look around the room.

It was clean. Spotless, even. It looked as though he were in a room that had never been used previously. There were no clothes littering the floor, no spots of blood, no dead bodies, no broken mirrors, just him in a large bed, with a nightstand at the side and a dresser against a wall nearby. There was, of course, a potted plant and a piece of artwork resting on an empty wall for decoration, but he knew that neither of those things would come to be important to him later on.

On either side of the dresser in front of him were two doors, one of which he supposed lead to a washroom or a closet, and the other must have been an exit from the room, which led to an area unknown.

Ja’far’s head fell painfully back down onto the pillow. The ringing had died down at least a little by then, which he was thankful for.

He stared blankly at the smooth ceiling as he lost himself in thought. Everything here was unknown to him at that moment. The room sparked no memories within his mind. He couldn’t even fathom how he had gotten there in the first place.

The last thing he remembered was entering a dungeon with his henchmen, Vittel and Mahad, a magician named Falan, and some stuck-up noble named Dragul nol Henrius Govius something-or-other, all with the orders to kill a nuisance named “Sinbad.”

That man… was truly awful. He’d tied Ja’far up and tried to get into his head. He had even _slapped_ him!

Sinbad truly was a vile man… was he dead yet?

Surely he was. Ja’far himself had gone after him, and Ja’far never failed a mission. _Never._

The door which he figured had been an exit opened, snapping Ja’far out of his recollections. He gasped when he saw a tall, broad-shouldered man with bright red hair step into his room. Was that…

Was that a Fanalis?!

“You’re awake,” he said simply.

Ja’far gulped and nodded despite the painful feeling of what he thought might be his brain rattling around in his skull at the small movement.

A look passed over the man’s face. Was that… relief? It was hard to read, considering he had a stoic visage overall. Any emotion would be difficult to measure on him.

“Don’t move,” the Fanalis ordered, and with that, he left the room.

Ja’far added him to his checklist of people to avoid. Who was he, anyway? Could he have been some sort of guard?

He didn’t have much time to think it over, for the Fanalis soon returned, and with a small, blue-haired woman at his side.

She grinned at him. “Ja’far!” she cried happily as she ran to his side. “You really are awake! That’s great!”

She knew his name?! He never told _anyone_ his name, and now the Fanalis had heard it, too. He’d have to kill the both of them… What a bother.

He made a move to sit up despite all the pain in his body. He couldn’t control his blades properly whilst laying down, but the woman firmly pushed him back onto the bed and held him so that he couldn’t maneuver himself without suffering a great deal of pain.

“Don’t try to move, mister!” she huffed at him. “Your ribs are broken. Literally all of them. If you move around, they could get moved out of place and I’d have to set them again… Which I assure you, you don’t want me to do that while you’re awake.”

“I’ve had… Worse,” Ja’far grunted out stubbornly. He realized that this was the first time he had spoken since he woke up. His voice sounded raspy, while also nasally, and was a bit higher than he last remembered. How long had he gone without a smoke?

The girl growled. “I don’t care. You’re getting proper treatment this time,” she said.

Ja’far growled and reluctantly relaxed. She was a stubborn one. He’d just let her do as she pleased for now and kill her later… so long as she didn’t try anything funny.

The woman turned her head and smiled at the Fanalis in the doorway. “Thank you for telling me he was awake, Masrur,” she said kindly. “He should be fine now.”

The man- Masrur was his name, apparently- nodded. “I’ll stay here in case he tries to work again.”

The woman giggled. “Good idea,” she said, then turned back to Ja’far. “I’m going to give you a quick check-up now to make sure you didn’t suffer anything real serious, okay?”

Ja’far swallowed, only then realizing just how thirsty he was. “Fine.”

The woman paused for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. You’re probably starving. You’ve been out for five whole days!” she said. “Masrur, would you get him some food, please?”

_Five… days?_

It felt like he had been asleep for years.

“W-wait…” Ja’far rasped. The time wasn’t important. He had to tend to his needs first.

“Hm?”

“Water…” he choked out.

“Some water, too, then,” she said to Masrur.

“Understood,” the man said, then walked out of the room.

Once he was gone, the woman tilted Ja’far’s chin down gently. “Alright, look at me,” she said softly. “You got a nasty blow to your head. I need to see if you’re still concussed.

Ja’far looked at her. He tried to keep himself from giving her a murderous glare, but even if he had, it would have gone away the moment a bright light was shined into his eyes.

“Ow!” he hissed.

“Keep still,” the woman commanded. “Huh…”

“What?” Ja’far growled.

“I could have sworn your eyes were grey before…”

“Grey?”

“Mm… They’re a light green now. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light,” the woman said with a shrug. She put the light down. “Your pupils are dilating just fine, thankfully.”

 _I guess… that’s a good thing?_ Ja’far thought. He’d never learned much about medical stuff. The most he could do was make cuts, sew them up, and wrap bandages.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

What a stupid question. “Shitty,” he huffed.

The woman chuckled. “Explain that.”

“I feel… dizzy, my ears won’t stop ringing, my body aches, and everything is too bright,” Ja’far said hoarsely.

“Oh, right. I forgot about that… I’ll shut the blinds for you,” the woman said. She walked over to the window, then drew the thick curtains shut, which made the entire room dark to Ja’far’s satisfaction.

“Well, it sounds like a concussion to me,” the woman sighed. “Are you experiencing any memory loss?”

Any information he gave her from here on out might affect his own safety, but some questions might give him an advantage on how to get back to his guild. With that in mind, he’d tread lightly.

“A little,” he said. “I… can’t remember how I got hit, and I can’t remember anyone’s names.”

The woman blinked, “Even mine?” she asked.

“Even yours…” he sighed, feigning worry.

“My name is Yamuraiha,” the woman said. “I’m one of Sinbad’s eight Generals, as are you.”

“Sinbad?” Ja’far asked, his eyes suddenly sharp. He wasn’t dead yet?!

“Yes, Sinbad! Don’t you remember Sin?” Yamuraiha asked. “You’re his right hand man, after all.”

_Right hand man…?_

Ah, he understood, now. Sinbad must have been too difficult a target to kill while he had such little knowledge of him. He must have had so much trouble with the man that he’d had to try a different approach!

Ja’far chuckled. Ah, how perfect… He’d achieved gaining Sinbad’s trust. It’d be so much easier to kill him if he wasn’t expecting it. He couldn’t help but imagine the glorious face of utter betrayal the man would make in his dying moments.

Maybe he could get a short torture session in before he finally finished the deed.

“What’s so funny?” Yamuraiha asked.

“Huh? Oh,” he hadn’t realized he’d laughed aloud. “I was just thinking about how lost he must be considering I’m currently out of commission.”

Yamuriaha chuckled. “Everyone thought he’d be out of sorts without you around,” she said, “But, surprisingly enough, he’s been keeping it together! He’s even been doing his work!”

“Well, at least he hasn’t been totally useless,” Ja’far snickered. “Hey, quick change of subject, would I be able to take a bath anytime soon?”

“Oh, I suppose that would be important for you,” Yamuraiha said. “I could get a bath drawn now, if you’d like. You might need someone to help you in, though.”

“I can handle it,” Ja’far claimed. He just wanted to be clean. Even a drink could wait so long as he got his bath.

Yamuraiha sighed. “I knew you’d say that…” she said. “Fine. I’ll get the bath ready while you eat, and while you’re in there, I’ll get you some painkillers and some fresh bandages.”

“Uh-“

“Don’t worry. I know you don’t like pills, so I’ll just bring in some herbs to smoke with your regular stuff,” Yamuraiha said with a wink. “I promise not to tell Sin, as always. We both know how he feels about that stuff…”

The girl was smart. Maybe he’d keep her around.

_Sinbad… you’re a dead man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos and a comment if you can! They really keep me going, and I'm finally starting to take the time to respond to everyone so kind to comment! I'm sorry about the slow updates! I'm going to try to be a little faster. Once I get Amnesia a little further ahead and Vengeance back on track, I'll start updating at normal intervals.


	4. Blowing off Some Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ja'far realizes he's not who he used to be and tries to restore himself to his former glory, but Masrur won't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the break! I was in a slump. I'm back now.

Ja’far smiled in satisfaction as he basked in the warm sunlight morning brought. That magician, Yamuraiha, had finally given him the freedom he so desperately yearned for after a week and a half of bedrest. According to her, his ribs and shoulder were finally healed after some extensive treatment. That didn’t mean he was completely healed of the bruises, however. Though he could move his body as freely as he pleased, he still had to suffer the nasty appearance of disgusting yellow and brown on his torso.

Still, he couldn’t thank Yamuraiha enough for healing him so quickly (even if she didn’t do much for his head) and he hated thanking people. She used some sort of magoi manipulation to seal his bones back into place faster than they would have naturally. He mentally noted to speak to her about what she did. The technique might come in handy later in life.

He lifted his pale arms into the air and stretched as he thought back to when he woke up.

He’d noticed the moment he first stood up that something was different about himself, and didn’t notice what it was until he walked into the bathroom, where he saw himself in a full-length mirror.

He’d discovered that he was no longer the tiny ten year-old boy he’d been before he blacked out. He was now a young man who was at least in his twenties, and… he was _tall._

He’d probably been a little too excited when he discovered his newfound height, but that jovial feeling quickly dissipated when the Fanalis stepped into the bathroom to “help” him with the simple task of bathing, and he saw that the man towered nearly a foot above him.

Gods, he hated being small, even if his size gave him a few benefits.

Ja’far bent backwards into a bridge and was surprised to find that he wasn’t as limber as he used to be. He grew frustrated with himself. Just what happened over the years that was so important it made him forget to stretch?

He stood back up with a growl that quickly evolved into a groan. His joints made ungodly popping noises as he moved, and he winced as he finally made it back to his regular standing position.

“Ja’far…” came a voice from behind him, which caused the former assassin to jump and turn toward the speaker with malice in his eyes.

It was none other than Masrur who was behind him, unsurprisingly.

“What do you want?” Ja’far huffed. “I’m healed now, so you don’t have to waste your time on me.”

Masrur tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Do you need help?” he asked.

Despite the fact that the man was an incredible, hulking beast with almost inhumanly sized muscles, Ja’far had to admit to himself that the man was actually rather cute. He didn’t seem overly smart, either. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to kill the redhead after all. He could probably manipulate the man to his side with minimal effort.

“Hm… maybe a quick spar after I do some stretching?” Ja’far asked. “I’d like to test my limits. I won’t use my blades.”

Masrur’s eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head. “No,” he said. That’s how his friend had gotten hurt the last time. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt Ja’far like that again.

Instead of being sympathetic and understanding like the Ja’far he’d known, the man gave him a sour look, said, “Well, what use are you, then?” and stalked away.

That… had actually hurt his feelings. Couldn’t Ja’far tell that he had refused to spar in order to protect him? Didn’t Ja’far remember that is was a spar between the two of them that got him hurt in the first place?

Perhaps… Perhaps the guy was just angry because he felt weak. Maybe that also explained why he was outside stretching and trying to train instead of working on that official paperwork stuff that he normally cared so much about.

It was probably best for him to leave the older General alone for the time being so that he could blow off some steam.

The man probably needed a break from work to focus on training, anyway.


	5. Let's Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a check-up, Yamuraiha promises to take Ja'far around Sindria to reintroduce him to the Generals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the long wait and short chapters, everyone! A lot's been going on recently.

“Has the strain you’ve been putting on your body caused any discomfort? Have your ribs been aching?” Yamuraiha asked.

Ja’far huffed. “I’m fine other than the bruising and the headaches,” he claimed. He hadn’t been too pleased to have been pulled away from his training for a check-up.

“You’re still suffering from the headaches?” Yamuraiha asked. “Has your memory returned, at least? Can you remember anyone’s names?”

“I remember yours, Masrur’s, and Sinbad’s, but only because you told me them,” Ja’far said. “I might need a recap of everyone or something.”

Yamuraiha nodded. “I’ll get right on that,” she said. “I’m surprised none of the other generals visited you after you woke up. They were all very worried.”

“Isn’t that partially your fault?” Ja’far asked. “I heard you yelling at someone just the other day for trying to come into my room.”

Yamuraiha giggled softly. “That was Sin,” she explained. “I knew that if he stepped in here, you wouldn’t get any rest at all.”

What little color Ja’far held drained from his features in a mere moment. Sinbad, his target, had almost come in to check on him, and Yamuraiha had stopped him? Did she want him to fail his mission? Was she on his side or not?!

No, no, he couldn’t think like that. Surely there was some other reason. Yamuraiha was a very compassionate person. She must not have wanted him to further injure himself by trying to kill Sinbad so soon.

What did the man even look like after so much time had passed? It had been years since Ja’far had last seen him. In fact, the last thing he remembered of the king was merely his long, purple hair, tan skin, and an infuriating smirk.

He wanted so badly to slice it off the man’s face. If Sinbad were as cheeky now as he was then, Ja’far would have a much more pleasant time taking his life.

“Well, I suppose I’ll take you around the towers to see everyone in a few moments,” Yamuraiha said, snapping Ja’far from his thoughts. “Just to be clear, you’re not in any enormous pain?”

“Just some aches. They’ll go away,” Ja’far claimed.

Yamuraiha nodded. “Alright, then. If that changes, if you start to feel any worse, don’t hesitate to tell me, alright?”

Ja’far nodded, and the magician stood up with a satisfied smile. “I guess that’s it, then. Stand up. It’s time to go meet everyone.”


End file.
